


.03 My Treat

by LaPilar



Series: Supernatural Imagines/One-Shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Impala, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaPilar/pseuds/LaPilar
Summary: You decide to clean Dean's car for him while he's gone, and he repays you in a really fluffy way.





	.03 My Treat

As soon as I heard the bunker's door slam shut, I was up on my feet and moving across the kitchen. I poured myself another cup of coffee before heading upstairs to change into some old shorts and a t-shirt.  
Dean and Sam had left to speak to a hunter friend a few towns over, so I had no idea how long they'd be gone. But I hadn't had any other times to do this; Dean watched me like a hawk. You see, they had recently repaved one of the roads in town, and the Impala was subsequently covered in tar splotches. It had pissed my boyfriend off when he noticed it, and I wanted to do something nice for him. Plus, he made it easy, having left a bottle of tar remover on the kitchen counter. He had been saying he'd get around to it for a week, but hadn't had time. In the meanwhile, Sam had insisted on driving almost everywhere, like he was now. He was used to Dean insisting on driving, but now he had a good reason to drive his own car. Namely, "I will not be seen around in that dirty car of yours, Dean."  
So, I grabbed some rags, my coffee, phone, and tar remover before letting myself outside.  
Dean never liked when I went places without him, and he'd be horrified if he learned I went somewhere without even telling him, but what was going to happen to me 30 feet from the bunker door?  
I turned on some of my favorite sing-along music (Adele, Katy Perry, the works) and grabbed the hose before setting in to my task. The remover was fairly effective, but I had to scrub pretty hard to get some of the more stubborn spots to come off. I sang until I ran out of breath from the work, then resumed a few seconds later. My rags, knees, shins, and feet soon became covered in the gray-black goo that comes from de-tarring a car, but it was satisfying. Ten minutes into my work, a light drizzle began, that soon turned into a consistently moderate pitter-patter of drops onto the car, the surrounding grass, and, yes, me. It wasn't enough to cease work, and I was now too engaged to quit, so I didn't let it bother me and I kept going.  
I soon had two doors completely tar-free, and was well into the second one. It could be difficult to tell where I had tackled and where I hadn't because both the car and the dried tar were black, but if I ran my fingers across the surface I could feel the little bumps left behind. My hands and forearms were steadily becoming like those of a coal miner, and the small itches I'd get on my face ensured some of it was smeared up there too.  
I was on my knees in front of the front passenger-side door when I heard the sound of wheels approaching. I stood up hastily, discarding my rag to the ground as I moved to the front of the Impala, where I could watch but avoid being seen. I did think most of what Dean said or did was paranoid, but he wasn't a complete idiot. You can't be too careful these days.  
Peeking up from the hood, I failed the recognize the purple sedan pulling to a stop on the road that ran by the bunker. But Dean got out of the backseat, exchanging a few words with the driver as he straightened up. I pulled my wet dress away from where it clung to my barely-covered body, sure Sam would probably be with his brother.  
But he wasn't. After Dean slammed the door shut, the car drove off. I straightened up then, and a look of confusion was quickly replaced by a little smile on Dean's face as he walked over quickly.  
"What're you doing out here?" he asked, coming around the car to plant a chaste kiss on my lips as he took in the bottle of remover and discarded rags lying on the ground.  
"I wanted to surprise you; I knew she needed de-tarred and you hadn't had time to get around to it, so I did it for you. Or most of it anyway, you got back too early for me to finish the whole thing."  
He walked around the car, letting out a low whistle as he circled back and returned to me. "It looks great. Thank you." His eyes then traveled down my now-shivering body. "Aren't you cold? C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up," he suggested, holding out a hand for me to take.  
I showed him my own, and he retracted the offer, instead letting me lead the way to the door, which he opened for me. "I'm not that cold," I argued as I led the way down to the kitchen after wiping my feet thoroughly on the mat.  
"It's a bit chilly out for cleaning cars, even I'll admit it," he said as he tossed his jacket onto the counter and turned to me. I couldn't see him; I faced forward as I scrubbed at the dirt on my hands.  
"Honestly, I wasn't cold until I stopped. It's hard work, it kept me warm."  
"I know. You didn't have to do that, you know. I would've gotten around to it eventually."  
"I wanted to."  
"I know." He moved to stand behind me, and his hands landed on my shoulders. He began kneading them. "Now let me repay the favor. Let's get you cleaned up and into some warm clothes, and maybe some hot cocoa? We can watch a movie."  
"That sounds great. Lead the way." I turned back to him, but he bent down instead and picked me up with ease.  
"Oh!" I exclaimed, more out of shock than anything else.  
"It's my treat, remember?" he said, walking us down the hall to the bathroom, where he set me on the edge of the tub.  
"Feet," he ordered, and I obeyed, lifting my left foot to his extended hand. He took the shower wand down, and got the water to a comfortable temperature before running it over my cold skin. I let out a sigh of contentment as he got a washcloth and began to scrub away the dirt, which took some time since I was covered in the stuff. As he finished my knee, a mischievous smile planted itself on his face as he kept sliding the cloth up my leg. I didn't notice until he had made it halfway up my thigh.  
"Hey!" I protested, shooing his hand away. "My other leg still needs cleaned."  
"Okay, your majesty," he joked, taking my right foot and repeating the process. After that, he scrubbed my arms clean and blotted away the spots on my face, which was considerably delayed by the endless kisses he rained upon my skin.  
When that was done, he dried me off with a fluffy towel, then motioned for me to stay put as he left, then returned only a few seconds later with one of his own old flannels in hand along with some of my wool socks and lace panties. His eyes were begging.  
"C'mon, Sam's going to come home sometime. He can't see me like that," I reminded Dean, who only stood me up and helped me out of my shorts and shirt.  
I caught him ogling my goose-bumped body, and rolled my eyes as he said, "I appreciate the decision to go without underwear today."  
"I'm cold," I pouted, and he soon gave in, handing over the warm, dry clothes. I got dressed quickly and followed him out to the living room.  
"You wanna pick a movie? I'll get the cocoa," he said before disappearing to the kitchen.  
I went through our meager selection of DVD's, finally picking out the first Horrible Bosses and putting it into the drive. Dean soon reappeared with steaming mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream, and I plopped down onto the couch as he set them on the coffee table.  
He sat next to me, and I immediately let my head droop onto his shoulder. He chuckled and pulled me closer. I loved feeling the reverberations in his chest whenever he spoke or laughed.  
I played the movie, getting as comfy as I could as my eyes started to blink slower and slower and yawns found their way out of me every few minutes. Dean was warm, and the quiet noise of the tv and steady rhythm of his breathing punctuated by the occasional rumble from his laughter were putting me to sleep.  
It didn't take him long to notice. He pulled me with him as he laid down sideways on the couch, draping an arm around my torso as one of his feet intertwined itself with mine.  
"You're tired, you should get some sleep," he said softly, pressing a small kiss to my exposed neck when I nodded and let my eyes slide shut for the final time that day.


End file.
